


Kissing with My Commander

by Velvet_Velour



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Amanda is a Huge Lesbian, Kaz Thirst, Kazuhira Miller the Bisexual Icon, M/M, MSF soldiers behaving like highschool gossipers, Strangelove is Tired, it's not gay if it's miller, this fic is as silly as the title suggests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 12:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvet_Velour/pseuds/Velvet_Velour
Summary: Strangelove becomes the editor to MSF’s first literary work which just so happens to be a self–insert fanfiction starring Commander Miller.[Peace Walker era mkaz]





	Kissing with My Commander

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, [bipalium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bipalium/pseuds/bipalium) and I were talking, one thing led to another and the idea of Medic writing a fic about Kaz was born.  
> Many thanks to bip for not only convincing me to publish this but also for beta reading.  
> If you need more mkaz (or good mgs fics!!) in your life I highly suggest reading [Poison](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303510) and [Pretty When You Cry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13553364).

Cool breeze feels good on Amanda’s face after sitting in a hot room for so long but a breeze isn’t what she wants right now. She reaches into her pocket for a much needed cigarette. Maybe one day she’ll quit. Today’s not that day, however, and at this moment she craves nicotine more than anything else.

„Amanda! There you are!”

She can recognise that drunken voice anywhere, though she didn’t expect to hear it in the middle of the day when it’s way too early for alcohol. Amanda lets out a sigh, hides a packet of cigarettes and a lighter in her pocket and turns around to see Cecile sauntering towards her with a grin on her pretty face.

“Wanna hear the latest news?” Cecile smiles like the Cheshire Cat, eyes glistening with mischief.

“Someone is having a little too much fun, I see,” Amanda replies with a frown. She needs to ask Miller to stop giving this woman wine.

“There’s a little _something_ circulating on Mother Base.” Cecile waggles her eyebrows. “And this time it’s way better than those boring political pamphlets.”

Amanda tries not to stare but it’s hard to avoid eye contact when the woman gets so close their noses nearly touch.

“It’s _porn_!” Cecile tries to whisper but fails, too excited to keep her voice down.

Amanda scoffs. As if she hasn’t seen soldiers drooling over magazines with moderately attractive bikini models sprawled in lewd poses.

“But wait!” Cecile clutches her shoulder and leans in. Her hot breath tickles Amanda’s ear. “It’s _fancy_ porn. Not pictures but, like, a _story_.”

“What are you talking about?” Amanda asks though what she wants to know more is, _How much did you drink?_

Cecile wraps her arm around Amanda’s neck. She’s just trying to support herself so she won’t fall face down to the ground but her body _this_ close distracts Amanda too much.

“I’m telling the truth, I swear!” Cecile assures, as serious as she can be in her state. “But guess what! It’s about _monsieur Miller_.”

“Miller?” Amanda repeats in confusion.

Once Cecile’s laugh turns into hiccups Amanda holds her, waiting. They really need to talk about Cecile’s drinking problem after she sobers up.

“So,” Amanda prompts once Cecile is able to speak again. “You’re saying someone wrote a story about Miller?”

Saying this out loud sounds even more ridiculous. Then again, if it really is true she can’t blame the author for choosing the Commander as the subject of their story. Everyone on the base always talks about Snake but it’s Miller who gets hungry looks from both female and male staff. Rumour has it he doesn’t discriminate and likes to fool around with everyone. Or used to, until he got a beating of the century from Boss.

“Mm–hmm,” Cecile hums right into Amanda’s ear. “Haven’t read it. _Yet_.”

And here goes that damned smile of hers, again. Sometimes Amanda wonders if Cecile knows how distracting she can be.

“Heard some gals talking, they were all hush–hush about it,” Cecile continues, oblivious to Amanda’s excitement. “They were kind enough to share some juicy details. From what they told me, the story has everything. I mean, _everything_. Want me to share? You sure do!”

“Let’s get to your room first, okay? Then you can tell me whatever you want about that, uh, romance novel.”

Another laugh brings Cecile on another round of hiccups. Amanda wraps her arm around her waist for support. It’s better to lead her drunken friend away before she does something risky. They are on a base in the middle of an ocean, after all.

On their way, Amanda can’t stop thinking about what she’s just heard. It sure is stupid but she’s intrigued enough to listen Cecile out. The very idea is surreal; looks like someone has way too much time on their hands if they spend it writing about Kazuhira Miller’s love life.

 

* * *

 

There aren’t many things in this world that can make Strangelove question the essence of reality. She is a scientist, her logical mind can process complex issues that are incomprehensible to an ordinary person. But looking at sheets of paper in her hands she’s not so sure if the universe itself isn’t playing a prank on her.

She adjusts her sunglasses, glad she’s wearing them, then puts the papers on the desk. At least the person sitting on the other side can’t  see the confusion in her eyes. She scans the text again, unable to believe what she's reading.

_I need a drink._

The man in front of her shifts in his seat, nervously waiting for her verdict. She regards him for a longer while. She didn’t even know he existed before he asked her for help. Despite living on Mother Base she doesn’t care that much about MSF. No idea why this poor guy has decided that she's some kind of expert in...

Well. In what exactly, literature? Editing borderline pornographic self–insert writing?

 _Joy, are you seeing this?_ Strangelove glances at the cloudy sky visible through a small window. _You have to be laughing so hard at me now…_

Her eyes return to the man who looks visibly distressed, like a student waiting for his teacher’s opinion on his latest assignment.

Strangelove takes a deep breath. There’s no need to drag this any further.

“What was your name again?”

He blinks in surprise, a faint blush appears on his face. “Oh, it’s – ”

“You know what, never mind,” she waves her hand at him. “On second thought, let’s keep it strictly professional. You’re on the medical team, right? Alright, I’ll do it. But don’t you dare mention to anyone I was involved, Medic.”

He nods and gives her a coy smile. “Seems fair.”

Does he know about her personal life? Is that why he came to her, one lovestruck idiot sensing another?

And this is the irony of the situation: she has no right to laugh at him. The guy just wrote a silly little story about him getting it on with his crush. Meanwhile, she has created an AI based on a woman she loved. It’s pretty clear who’s the more desperate one here.

“Let’s, uh… Let’s start with this – why is the narrative in second person?” She asks, all business. The least she can do is to help this guy with his writing. Too bad she can’t do anything about his feelings. He seems like a good person but Miller has developed a certain reputation. It’d be brutal to see his heart crushed by someone like Kazuhira Miller.

“What’s wrong about this perspective? I thought it’d make the story more, uh, relevant for readers.”

He’s blushing harder. _This is how people at NASA saw me when Joy arrived, huh?_

“Alright.” She turns to another page, ignoring a strong craving for a drink. Parts of the story are marked in red, indicating what he needs to change. He’s quite talented for an amateur, she can give him that.

“You don’t describe how exactly the protagonist looks like but you do mention Miller touching scars on his face.” She looks up at him, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t see any scars on _your_ face. Satisfy my curiosity and explain your choice, hm?”

Seeing him turning even more red Strangelove idly wonders how much his cheeks blazed when he was writing the _steamy_ parts of his story. She wishes she could see _that_.

“Most guys in MSF have scars, and I just….” He lets out a sigh. “If I describe the protagonist as someone who has scars then I’ll avoid suspicion.”

Her brows knit. “What you’re saying is, if you had scars _he_ wouldn’t recognise you?”

He shrugs. He tries to appear casual yet the pained expression on his face is enough to tell her he cares a lot.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear.” Strangelove gives him a pitiful look. “You said it’s your first story and I have to tell you it’s quite good. Your writing style needs some polishing and it’ll be even better.”

“Huh, really?” Medic’s eyes sparkle with surprise. It’s kind of endearing how happy he is gets about at this little compliment.

“Yes, really. You have to work on descriptions. Miller’s not some angelic, flawless creature, so you shouldn’t describe him as one. It’s merely my suggestion, though,” she adds, forcing a smile on her lips not to sound too harsh.

Medic doesn’t answer, instead he stares at his own feet with a shade of shame in his eyes. Something tells her he isn’t going to make changes in his Commander’s portrayal. It’s how _he_ sees it; of course Miller is the embodiment of perfection. It’s impossible to change the mind of a person who’s in love, Strangelove knows it well.

Of course she doesn’t want to be mean to the poor guy, but she just wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t ask.

“I’m no expert in men, so feel free to correct me on this one. Again this might be just my curiosity…” A quick glance confirms Medic is looking at her _dreading_ what he’s about to hear. She’s a terrible person for asking about it. But of course she’s going to.

“I find it quite surprising that in your story Miller is the one who tops. He doesn’t strike me as, well… A dominant kind of guy. What do you think?”

She’ll never forget the expression on his face. Strangelove has to bite her lower lip to stop herself from laughing.

“Should I… Should I change that?” He asks, voice strained as if he is about to suffocate.

“I don’t know,” she replies in a casual tone. “That was only a suggestion. I think you know the situation better than me after all.”

“Do you have any other questions?” There’s a silent plea in his pretty blue eyes for this torture to be over.

“Only one little detail.” She turns the page, eyes scanning the text to find the specific part. It’s not that easy considering the whole thing is ten pages in small font and full of overly detailed descriptions. “You created a rather dreamy image of Commander Miller here but in my opinion saying that he, and I quote, _smells like coconuts,_ is pushing it a little bit too much.”

He blinks, a dark flush returns to his cheeks. When he speaks his voice is quiet. “But… he does.”

The look he gives her suggests it’s one of the well–known facts. The sun rises in the East. The Moon orbits around Earth. Kazuhira Miller smells like coconuts. _Everyone_ knows that, why does she even ask?

Strangelove lets out a deep sigh.

_Hopeless, this one. Utterly hopeless._

She doesn’t have to close her eyes to imagine Joy standing right by Medic’s side, giving her a look.

 

* * *

 

Kaz never bothers to knock on Snake’s door, and he doesn’t do it now, opening it without any hesitation. He needs to be done with a stack of paperwork he’s holding as soon as possible. The only thing keeping him from finishing the papers is a requirement of Snake’s signature on every single one of them, so Kaz doesn’t want to wait any more. It’s enough that Snake is on Mother Base right now, not on yet another mission.

Unfortunately, he’s got company. It’s rather unexpected to see Doctor Strangelove here; she usually prefers to stay in her quarters, going out only if necessary. And if anything, she prefers female company to any male soldier, as Miller discovered soon after she arrived.

“Do you mind giving us a moment, Kaz?” Snake glances at him, a cigar in his mouth. From the way Strangelove wrinkles her nose it’s obvious she doesn’t appreciate the smoke. “Doctor Strangelove came up with a way to improve the defence mechanism.”

“I think we’re done anyway,” Strangelove says quickly. “We can discuss the details some other time. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Strangelove stands up, ready to leave. She doesn’t seem upset by Miller’s interference, her voice is as neutral as ever. She walks past him and Kaz waits for her to be gone. He doesn’t have anything confidential to discuss with Snake but she’s still an outsider living among them, hopefully not for too long. Strangelove’s very presence unnerves him in a way he doesn’t understand. Maybe it has something to do with her orientation and her complete disinterest in him, or maybe–

Miller’s train of thoughts is abruptly derailed when he notices what she’s just done.

Did she… Did she just _smell_ him?

He gives her a confused look. For a moment they face each other. With them both wearing sunglasses he can’t see her eyes just like she can’t see his, yet for some reason Kaz feels like he’s being judged. If it was any other person looking at him like that he’d at least respond with some flirty remark. But the fact it’s Stangelove of all people makes him feel unease.

“Is something wrong?” It’s Snake who breaks the silence.

“No, nothing at all,” Strangelove says, pushing her sunglasses up her nose.

She gives Snake a nod. For a second it seems she chose to ignore Kaz but then she turns at him and smiles like she knows his every secret. The smile sends a shiver down Miller’s spine and he watches, mortified, as the woman leaves without a word.

 

* * *

 

It’s not an everyday occurrence for Medic to have lunch in the cafeteria with other MSF soldiers. After more people have been assigned to the medical team he can finally allow himself a longer break. They will manage without him; Mother Base won’t go up in flames just because the head of the medical team isn’t there – or so he hopes.

Having lunch like pretty much every other soldier seems nice, besides it feels good to breathe air filled with smells other than anaesthetics or blood, even if it’s burned beans.

He looks around for a vacant place, a tray with food in his hands. With soldiers divided into various groups, he’s not sure where to sit. He more or less knows every other person in MSF, they all go through routine check–ups, but most of them haven’t seen him outside the medical platform. Or wouldn’t recognise him without his signature lab coat.

He spots some familiar faces in the crowd. There’s Armadillo, looking more sullen than ever. He’s one of the best soldiers in MSF, so Medic hopes the guy’s just having a bad day instead of being ill. On the far left, he sees Badger from the R&D team. He’s napping, mouth wide open, undisturbed by the chatter around him. R&D works really hard these days; Medic has no idea what they’re working on but it looks like a big project. He keeps seeing staff from their team sleepy and tired all the time. It’s better to leave Badger alone, then.

After a moment of consideration, he picks a table that’s close to an open window. It’s already occupied by three women but they don’t seem to mind when he sits down next to them. It looks like they’re so busy talking they don’t even notice him.

Medic pays them no mind until he hears a frustrated growl. He glances at a blonde whom he recognises as Swan.

“Give it a rest! It’s not me!” she hisses at her companions, lips twisted in an angry scowl.

“You were dating Armadillo,” says a petite redhead with freckles on her tanned face, Dingo. “He’s next on the list!”

“Yeah, but we broke up ages ago,” Swan waves her hand dismissively.

“What happened then?” The third one asks, a muscular woman with a high ponytail. It’s Wasp, if Medic remembers correctly. He continues to listen, keeping his eyes on his food to make sure he’s not openly staring. He doesn’t find relationship drama interesting but there’s not much to do here since he lacks a conversation partner.

“Don’t tell me you cheated on him again!” Wasp gasps.

 “ _I_ cheated on him again?” Swan scoffs. “After all that serious talking _he_ was the one who cheated! I mean, I can’t blame him…” She lets out a sigh.

“Wait, you’re saying – ” Wasp’s eyes go wide. Medic tries his best to look completely enthralled by pieces of broccoli on his plate.

“You know how Armadillo is,” Swan begins in a voice that suggests she’s about to add _Men, am I right, girls?_ at the end of her phrase. “He’s a tough guy on the outside but in reality he’s insecure about everything. It doesn’t matter Boss considers him one of his best guys, he’ll find something to doubt himself anyway. Even after he told Boss about our situation, and we all saw what Boss did to Miller…”

“Yes, we sure saw that,” Dingo adds in a dreamy voice. “I was right there when Boss sent Commander Miller flying. Their fight was… something.”

The women nod in agreement. Medic stabs a piece of carrot with a metal fork. He doesn’t have many regrets in his life. Not seeing the infamous naked fight between Big Boss and Commander Miller is one of them.

“Even though we had that _big talk_ , things between me and Armadillo got ugly,” Swan continues. “He wouldn’t stop being a jealous jerk. One night he got tipsy and started shouting about confronting Miller. Listen, there was nothing between me and Miller at the time, but Armadillo wouldn’t have it. He stormed out and I didn’t see him for the next two days. Honest to God I thought he was sent on a mission. Then I found out he was hiding from me.”

“Hiding from you?” Wasp asks with a frown. “Why the hell would he hide from you?”

“Oh, I’m getting to that,” Swan says bitterly. “He came back, fell down on his knees and begged my forgiveness. Get this, he did go to confront Miller, and sure enough they fought. Everything aside, how stupid was he to pick a fight with his superior officer? But that’s not all! He said they were fighting, and one thing led to another, and, well…” She smacks her lips. “It turns out he shouldn’t have worried about me because he was the one who cheated.”

Wasp whistles. “With the fighting that later turns into something more heated it’s like in chapter four!”

Medic nearly falls down from his chair. With the sudden realization that it’s his story they’ve been talking about this whole time – the _author’s identity_ , to be precise, he feels cold sweat on his skin.

“That’s why I think it’s Armadillo!” Dingo says, banging her fists on the table. “What if he wrote it from his own experience? What if Armadillo is the one _captivated by a hypnotising gaze of sapphires usually hidden behind an impenetrable barrier of his sunglasses_?”

Medic's hand holding the fork begins to shake. _Just how many times she read it that she knows it by heart_ _?_

“Please, as if he could write like that. You really think a guy like Armadillo could write such a masterpiece?” Swan asks. Medic wishes she was joking, yet her voice is nothing but serious. He takes a deep breath; if only he could make himself invisible, now that would be incredibly helpful.

The women nod again, agreeing on that Armadillo isn’t the mysterious author. Their discussion seems to be over and done with. Thank Heavens they got back to eating.

Then Dingo puts her fork away, glances at Swan and after a moment of thought breaks the silence.

“Is _that_ true?” she asks in a sheepish voice. A faint blush on her face makes her freckles stand out. “Like in the story? You know if it’s true or not, I mean, you slept with the guy.”

“The story is based on true facts,” Swan announces, dead serious. “That much I can tell you.”

Dingo gasps. Wasp swears. Medic nearly breaks his fork in half when he stabs the table with it.

“Sorry to disappoint you, it was just a one–time thing, nothing as dreamy as in the story.” Swan adds, her face turning red. “Can we drop the subject already? It’s not like it’s ever going to happen to you two, anyway.”

“Yeah, Boss told Miller women are off limits so he went for the guys,” Wasp sighs.

Medic feels crazy enough to glance at her and the damned woman is _pouting_ like she lost her chance to win a lottery.

“Well, as long as we get to read about it I’m totally cool with that,” Dingo giggles.

She and Wasp exchange a look. Swan rolls her eyes.

“Being called to your superior’s office is never fun,” Wasp says, “but now I kind of want to mess up a little with something meaningless so I get to see _the desk_.”

Dingo seems to be having a giggling attack. Medic, on the other hand, feels like his entire head is in flames.

“Ah, yes,” Wasp continues, her voice low. “The desk featured in chapter two. Some wonderful things happened on that desk. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Swan scoffs. “You do understand it’s all fictional?”

“Who knows?” Wasp hums. “What if there really is a guy among us desperately in love with Commander Miller? Maybe they had a one night stand or something? And now the guy’s head over heels with him?”

Grabbing his tray in shaky hands Medic gets up, using all his willpower to casually walk towards the exit instead of running in blind panic.

 

* * *

 

With a cigarette hanging from her mouth Amanda looks down at the platform below her.

There are footsteps coming from beneath, it’s two soldiers patrolling this part of the platform. When they approach, she hears they’re in the middle of a discussion.

“I heard Armadillo had to personally ask Boss for a new mission because it’s too much for him,” a deep voice says. After a moment of thinking Amanda recalls the tall guy is called Bison, quite aptly so considering his big frame and wide shoulders.

“Yeah, I saw him the other day. The guy’s so frustrated he may actually have a fever,” a shorter guy replies, shaking his head. It’s Python who seems to have a soft spot for her. He gets her cigarettes for half price.

And now when they stop Python produces a pack of cigarettes and offers one to Bison who shakes his head. Boss wouldn’t be happy to see them slacking off during a patrol.

“Can you blame him?” Bison asks. “At first everyone thought he wrote it. As if! He’s a good soldier but he’s no writer.”

“Yeah, he could never write something so good.”

Amanda lets out a puff of smoke. _That_ thing again. Lately everyone’s talking about the goddamn smut story. Although she can’t care less about random soldiers talking about it, what drives her mad is Cecile quoting passages from it on every occasion. Hearing _Kiss me! Kiss me, Commander!!!_ in that French accent of hers does weird things to Amanda’s heart.

“I think chapter three is the best,” Bison adds quietly. Amanda doesn’t have to look at the guy to know he’s embarrassed.

“I know!” Python agrees, his voice booming. Amanda briefly wonders if they even know how they sound. And people say it’s women who like gossiping.

“It starts with a party, and it’s like one of _our_ MSF birthday parties Boss and Commander Miller throw every month!”

“Because it’s supposed to be like our MSF party, idiot,” Bison scoffs. “Not that anything like that could ever happen…”

There’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that makes Amanda shake her head in resignation.

“It _could_ happen! You don’t know that!”

“Oh, really? And you’d be the guy in the story, huh?”

“I _could_ be!!” Python blurts out.

Amana bites the inside of her cheek resisting the urge to burst out laughing. It’s kind of adorable how into it these two gossipers are. Much to her amusement the discussion doesn’t end there.

“Yeah, sure,” Bison laughs. “You’re thin like a twig. Commander Miller would CQC you into the ground in five seconds. He isn’t into guys like you. He prefers burlier guys.”

“So you’re an expert now? You know what Miller likes, big guy? Well-groomed guys. When was the last time you showered, huh?”

“Real mature, Python. That’s exactly why you can only dream of being the guy in the _Kissing with My Commander_ series.”

“Wait, a series? I thought it was just that one story… There’s a new chapter?” Python asks. He sounds like it’s a matter of life and death.

“No, but…” Bison grumbles something Amanda can’t hear, possibly whispering it into the other’s ear.

Thankfully, seconds later Python demonstrates he has little to no self–control.

“What?! Someone _illustrated_ it?!” he yells, making Amanda jump on her spot.

“Shut up, you idiot!” Bison hisses. “Someone reprinted it _and_ included some pictures. I’ll tell you how to get the updated copy but you gotta be cool about it, man! This whole thing’s still a secret and let’s leave it like that. We may even get more stuff but you know it’s all over if Boss or Commander Miller find out.”

“Oh, shit, there’s gonna be more?!”

Amanda leans forward over the railing. 

“Well,” Bison clears his throat. “I heard Wasp talking with Dingo, and they know it’s some dude from R&D who drew the pictures. He’s crazy good at drawing, wanted to be an artist or some shit. Anyway, like half of his team is now on to print updated copies with pictures. And Wasp said that R&D asked Intel to help them distribute because of course everyone keeps asking about it.”

“Wasp knows who’s the author?!” Python squeaks.

“No, idiot, she doesn’t,” Bison huffs in irritation. “Swan claims she has no clue, either. I’m pretty sure Intel team has a bet going to find out who’s the author. Imagine you ask what he’s going to write next. Imagine that!”

“Damn,” Python whistles. “The pictures, tho. Are they good?”

“My man…” Bison lets out a dreamy sigh. Amanda cranes her neck to take a quick glance at the men. As she expected, Bison just nods while Python stares at him, eyes wide, mouth open.

“And let me tell you this,” Bison continues. “That R&D guy, the artist, not only illustrated the smutty scenes. Sure, chapter three is hot and all, but what really gets me is the ending.”

“Aw, man, the cuddling at the end? That’s the cutest shit ever!”

“I know!” Bison exclaims and this time he’s the one who’s being too loud.

Amanda straightens her back, brushes a strand of hair from her forehead. She leaves the two gossipers alone, walking back to her quarters. She’s heard enough.

The situation escalated in a way she had no way of predicting. Not that she’s interested but…

It’s been a week and there’s already a new edition? With _illustrations_?

That’s it. She’s going to ask Cecile to get her a copy of that thing. Just to see what all the fuss is about, of course.

 

* * *

 

The moment Medic opens his eyes in the morning he knows it’s going to be a tiring day. Soon enough his presumption becomes true.

It starts with Badger dropping by to ask for something to keep him up. The man looks worse than the last time Medic saw him, dark circles under his eyes, skin pale.

“If anyone else from R&D needs medical help, ask them to get here immediately,” Medic says, giving Badger a worried look. “I get the project you guys are working on is demanding and keeps you up at night but Boss should know not to press you so hard. Have you thought about asking him to assign more staff to help?”

For a moment he thinks there must be a _real_ reason the guy’s so overworked.

“The thing sure keeps us up at night.” Much to Medic’s confusion, Badger laughs. “Not the Boss’ fault, though. We’re kind of working on, well, a small extra project.”

“What are you working on?” Medic forces himself to ask. Deep down, he has a sneaking suspicion he knows what it is.

“You’re a cool guy and all, doc, but promise me not to say a word to anyone about what I’m about to show you, okay?” Badger glances around, as if expecting someone spying on him, then extracts a thin book from under his tactical vest. “A little ‘thank you’ gift for all those times you patched me up. Just keep it for yourself.”

The cover is slightly worn but other than that it’s in a great condition. Medic stares at the updated version of his story. It has a brand new cover with the title written in fancy dark red font. He’s never had any out of body experiences but this exact moment he can feel his soul leaving his body and staring at him from above.

“From the look on your face I take it you probably heard about it, doc.” Badger snickers. “So you know the first version was just the text. This is what we’re printing in secret. The demand is pretty damn high. This version has illustrations, courtesy of a good friend of mine. He should be in art school if you ask me.”

Medic stammers a weak ‘thank you’. The thin book he’s holding is  burning his fingers.

“Dunno if it’s something that floats your boat. I mean, I don’t want to assume…” Badger clears his throat, flustered. “It’s just a story, right? There’s nothing wrong with enjoying some nice literature that happens to be about an attractive guy? And Commander Miller sure is one hell of a good–looking guy.”

“Mm–hmm,” Medic mumbles.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you alone,” Badger pats his shoulder. “Have fun, doc! I’ll let you know if my friend makes more illustrations.”

He _winks_ at Medic before leaving, and Medic briefly wonders what would happen if he just collapsed right there on the spot and never got up. He hides the damned copy in his desk.

Then his day gets even worse.

He hears bursts of laughter coming from one of the medical rooms, and when he goes to inspect the situation, he finds Cecile entertaining a small gathering of staff. Her idea of entertainment is quoting parts of the story. Medic listens, doesn’t dare to get inside the room. She’s so loud he can hear every word of it.

Instead of an ornithologist she should be an actress, considering how much heart she puts into her performance. She even does the voices, saying Miller’s lines in a low, husky tone that makes her accent stand out even more. Two minutes of listening to her is too much for Medic. He leaves just when she gets to chapter three, awarded by a round of applause. From what he’s heard, this particular chapter seems to be fan favourite.

Because, sure enough, the story has _fans_. Apparently people like the Costa Rica beaches as a setting for a scene.

And finally there are those pictures. He goes on an afternoon break, grabs the copy Badger left him and hides inside a broom closet to inspect the updated version of the work of his life. Just seeing the first illustration nearly gives him a heart attack.

The picture doesn’t depict any specific scenes from a story, it’s a _bonus illustration_ , as explained by a caption below it. It’s Commander Miller casually sitting on his desk in his office. The details are so astounding, the guy who drew this had to be there at least once. But it’s not nicely painted details Medic is staring at.

Miller is wearing his signature attire but his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down and he’s pulling on his yellow ascot to take it off. His hair is carefully styled, a smile on his lips. His sunglasses are low on his nose so his blue eyes gaze right at Medic. Behind his back there’s a poster on a wall, MSF’s logo with bright yellow letters JOIN NOW.

Why waste time recruiting, Big Boss should take this picture with him, show it to people and they’d fulton themselves to Mother Base on their own volition. If this ever happens, the number of volunteers will double.

Medic closes the thin book. Badger was right when he praised his friend’s talent.

Thankfully he soon gets busy and not think about the picture. It’s been a long day and Medic can feel it in his bones. Once his shift is over he goes outside to have a smoke. _Perhaps I’m overreacting_ , he muses, looking up at the sky.

He can’t wrap his head around the idea that his silly little story got a cult following.

 _Can I really blame them for being so into this?_ Medic asks himself going back to his office.

He pushes the door open and freezes in place noticing there’s someone waiting for him there.

“Well, if it isn’t our esteemed writer.”

Medic’s heart skips a beat at the voice and sight of the man sitting on his chair.

“Coming back to work on the next chapter?” Commander Miller asks in a nonchalant tone. He has his legs on the desk, arms folded on his chest.

Medic lets out a heavy sigh. He makes sure the door is properly closed before he walks up to the man and sits on the edge of the desk.

“Writing ten pages was exhausting, I don’t think there’ll be more.”

For a moment he gazes at his own reflection in Miller’s shades. He puts his hands into pockets of his white coat, the urge to reach out and get those damned aviators out of the way is too great all of a sudden.

“It was a joke and you took it too seriously,” Miller laughs. He puts his legs on the floor so Medic can move closer.

Medic shakes his head. “It was a dare, my dear Commander, and I took it very seriously.” He scratches his chin. “I didn’t think it would get so much attention.”

“People are crazy about your little story.”

“What can I say, I’m a man of my word,” Medic bows his head. “And I’m up to every challenge but you already know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, a real wolf in sheep’s clothing.” Even though Miller’s aviators are in the way, Medic is sure the man’s watching him with intense eyes. “Who would have thought the best man in our medical team is so good at writing smutty literature?”

“Maybe it’s my hidden talent.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to convince Strangelove to proofread it for you. How did you trick her?”

“As if could I release an unpolished story,” Medic says in a mock serious voice. “She was really helpful, you know, but I’m afraid I scarred her for life.”

“Strangelove is a tough girl, she probably didn’t care about the smutty parts anyway. Even in chapter three,” Kaz adds, a grin curving up the corners of his lips. “Those illustrations are something else, though.”

Medic laughs. “You’ve seen the _fanarts_? We’ve got some talented people here on Mother Base.”

“So what’s next, hm?” Kaz asks, trying to mask his amusement with seriousness. “You’d leave the good people of MSF with an open ending? Morale would take a serious hit. If they don’t find out how the story ends, they will start a riot. Think of the consequences.”

Medic considers his answer for a moment. If people love all that cheesy dialogue in his story then he can be a bit cheesy himself.

“I don’t know. I think I need some more inspiration, Commander,” he smiles and leans in. There’s still a hint of a blush on his face but can’t care less. Up close he can see those blue eyes sparkling with interest.

 “I saw Cecile’s little performance the other day. I don’t know if I can take my title seriously anymore,” Kaz complains with a dramatic sigh before pulling him in for a kiss.


End file.
